Footloose and Footstools…
Footloose and Footstools… Miss Parker, my fourth grade music teacher, was really cool. She sported tiny, oval-shaped, gold-rimmed glasses, had long, straight dark hair, and played acoustic guitar as accompaniment to our singing. This was 1973, so it was all perfect....
Ode to Blake…
“This is how I shall measure time….” I can’t find the poem. I found a short essay from which the poem was crafted, but the poem may be lost, which is not surprising since there have been many moves and nearly three decades between. The search...
Et tu, Brute…
Et tu, Brute…. This is about betrayal. In the garden. Way back in high school, I had Latin class for three years. I had no idea of course that Latin would serve me so well: learning plant botanical names was way down the road but because of my Latin studies I had a...
The Grass is Greener…
Fred called the other day to say that he was worried about the coming cold temperatures and asked if he should cover his Paper Bush. We were lucky in that there was a bit of wind, which prevented frost from settling on buds and flowers. However, Fred also said he...
Counting Down…
Yesterday I had to blink and look twice–I saw Chipmunk out from hibernation snacking alongside the birds on the seed I just scattered. Maybe he fell for some fake news that spring has arrived while the rest of us are still counting down. I hope he’s...Work With Jeannie
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